Page:Irish minstrelsy, vol 2 - Hardiman.djvu/73

Rh "Her vallies but echo the voice of her woe,
 * In the fears of her people I hear her upbraid,

How long shall I bleed to a merciless foe?
 * How long shall my heart's secret wish be delayed?

But Saint Peter will sanction the welcome divorce.
 * From him who would ne'er be our maiden's desire;

A monster whose bonds are the fetters of force.
 * Ne'er by heaven designed for our Sheela na Guire,

"My heart, how it pines when I think of the wretch,$8$
 * Without honour or principle, virtue, or truth;

Whose guilt could design, and whose power could
 * reach
 * To assail our beloved in the hills of her youth.

I'm the oldest—the last of her sages confest,
 * And she, dearest maid, can alone still inspire

A joy and content o'er the gloom of my breast.
 * When Charles shall espouse her, my Sheela na Guire!